


Identity

by fishfingersandjellybabies



Series: Clone!Dick AU [3]
Category: Batman (Comics)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-29
Updated: 2015-06-29
Packaged: 2018-04-06 20:14:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,007
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4235109
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fishfingersandjellybabies/pseuds/fishfingersandjellybabies
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dick Grayson discovers he is not Dick Grayson. The clone discovers he is a clone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Identity

**Author's Note:**

> I’d like to believe that the clone didn’t know he was a clone, not at first. And when I said this was a post-Damian resurrection AU, I meant that like, everyone still believed Dick to be dead for a while, and the clone was created and presented after Damian returned.

His hands were shaking.

He didn’t know where these things were coming from. The bookshelf? The closet? He would just reach out, his fingers would brush something else. He’d blink, and they were in his vision. Photographs, yearbooks, letters, old clothes.

His hands were shaking.

It was clear, in everything, in every item. That’s him. Him with friends, him with parents, him with Bruce. The letters he clearly wrote, that was his handwriting, his signature. Even the clothes, they _smelled_ like him, they _looked_ like him. He was sure of that, he was _sure_ that these were all the _facts_.

But he didn’t remember them.

He didn’t remember hanging out with these people.

He didn’t remember writing these letters.

He didn’t remember wearing these clothes.

He knew the truths. He had the facts. He didn’t have the memories.

He did these things. But he didn’t _do_ these things.

His hands were shaking.

That was all he knew about himself right now.

Why couldn’t he remember? Why couldn’t he remember the touch of this cotton sweater on his skin? Or Kori’s hands down his chest? Why can’t he remember taking that picture? Of he and Jason in their costumes, his hand wrapped around his little brother’s shoulder? Why couldn’t he remember walking through that library that the yearbook showed him standing in, holding that test with the glittery _A+!_ written on top of it?

And then another fact him him.

Why couldn’t he remember doing anything before two weeks ago?

He could feel his breath shortening, muscles trembling.

Had something happened? Was there an accident? A situation? No, no surely someone would have told him. _Damian_ would have told him. Damian seemed to tell him everything, whether he truly wanted to know or not. Why did that never seem weird before now? Why does he not remember building that incredibly close relationship with his brother? With any of them?

Something was wrong. 

Something was so very, very wrong.

He heard the squeak of his bedroom door, the soft heavy feet crossing the floor. It was only when he moved his head to look up, to turn and see his visitor, did he realize he was crying.

“I don’t remember.” Dick whispered, clutching the old program from Haly’s Circus - the one he and his parents graced the cover of - so tightly it crinkled. “Bruce, why don’t I remember?”

“Because you didn’t live it.” Bruce said gently, pushing some photographs to the side and crouching in their place. “Not really.”

“I did.” Dick wailed. “I did, because that’s me.”

“It is.” Bruce agreed softly. “Sort of.”

“Sort of?”

“What’s the first thing you remember?”

Dick sniffed, tried to toughen up. “When?”

“Ever.”

“Um…” And Dick felt that panic rise up. Because the first thing he could remember was - “Two weeks ago. Waking up in that lab where Vic’s dad works. Dr. Stone was there. You. Dr. Stone said it was done. No complications. I should be fine. We came home. Damian seemed surprised to see me. He hugged me, and let me carry him to bed. I stayed with him a while. Then I went to bed myself.”

Pause.

“Why don’t I remember anything before that?” He croaked, doubling over on himself.

Bruce’s hand was a steadying weight on his shoulder. “Because you…you didn’t exist before that.”

“Nonsense.” Dick snorted, blinking his tears into a fall. “I’m twenty-six years old, Bruce, of course I-”

” _Dick Grayson_ existed before that.” Bruce corrected. “ _You_ did not.”

Dick felt his lip quiver. Because Bruce didn’t need to say the exact words. It made sense. He was a detective and this was his evidence. But he asked anyway.

“What am I? Because I still bleed. I still feel pain and emotions and…”

“You’re not a robot. You’re a clone. Born from Dick’s original DNA.”

“What happened?”

“He died.” Bruce said bluntly. “I couldn’t save him.”

“Oh.”

“And when Damian returned to us, I…No one mentioned it to him, but I could see it in their eyes. They were all still so pained by the loss. Pained by the loss the boy would have to go through, eventually.” Bruce hesitated on one picture. One of him, Dick and Alfred. Dick couldn’t have been older than eleven. “No one wanted to be one to tell him that Dick wasn’t just on a trip overseas." 

And Dick remembered the look on their faces. The tears welling up in Tim’s eyes. Jason’s shock and relief. He thought it was funny at the time. Cute, even.

"They’d gone through enough. And they all loved you… _him_ , they all loved _him_ so much.” Bruce seemed annoyed with himself. “And I…I had to fix it, I had to…”

“Stop the hurting.” Dick finished, hands dropping to his lap. “They need him.”

“They need _you_.” Bruce suddenly sounded urgent. “You can’t tell them, you _cannot_ tell him you’re not _him_. They need to believe you are the original, because if you do-”

“If I tell them the truth, I’ll tear their souls out.” Dick cut off. “And I would never do that.”

Bruce seemed to relax then, deflated slightly as Dick had. “If it’s any conciliation, you are doing admirably. You’re…you’re just as good a man as he was.” Bruce looked away. “Maybe even better, after today.”

There was a sudden voice in the hallway. Damian, calling for his father.

“I should…” Bruce muttered, jumping to his feet. “Are you…?”

“I’ll be fine.” Dick sniffed, wiping at his eyes. He leaned back, smiling. It was broken thing. Wrong amongst those quiet tears. “I, uh…I’m probably going to need a couple minutes to myself anyway.”

Bruce gave a grateful nod before spinning away. As Damian and Bruce’s voices filtered through the door - Bruce telling Damian to leave Dick alone for the afternoon and Damian questioning why - Dick curled his knees up to his chest, buried his face into his knees, and let the silent sobs wrack through his bones.

A couple minutes to himself.

Who was he, anyway?

**Author's Note:**

> [Other Clone!Dick stories](http://fishfingersandjellybabies.tumblr.com/search/clone%21dick)   
> 


End file.
